


In Moonlight

by lolcat202



Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 23:57:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9096241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolcat202/pseuds/lolcat202
Summary: Andy and Sharon tangle after his heart attack.





	

Andy thought the worst thing about his heart attack would be the hospital food. He was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Sharon had brought him home after a long, tedious 24 hours in the hospital, tucking him into bed and setting out his pills and a bottle of water on the nightstand. As much as he wanted to downplay his most recent health crisis, the truth was, he was exhausted. He fell asleep almost immediately and slept for a good ten hours. When he woke, it was after 10am, and he wasn’t surprised to find himself alone in the bedroom.

Dr. Liu said (well, shouted) that it was a minor cardiac event, after all. He could hardly expect Sharon to stay home to take care of him when he’d explained on the drive home, in detail, that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. Still, he would have thought that she’d text him, or call him, or at least leave a note.

Barring that, he’d have expected Rusty standing guard in the kitchen, but the kid was off to class or out with Gus. He tugged the belt a little tighter on his robe, threw a few slices of toast on a plate and settled himself on the couch. She’d call when she got a break, and in the meantime, he could catch up on SportsCenter. He dozed off halfway through college football highlights and woke up the setting LA sun, the smell of sautéed garlic and the sound of voices in the kitchen.

He padded into the kitchen and settled himself on a barstool, resting his elbows on Sharon’s pink granite countertops. “Smells good,” he said with a smile. Rusty grinned back, but Sharon didn’t bother to look up. Well, he couldn’t blame her. He was the one who told her that burned garlic was the surest way to ruin a homecooked meal.

“Ma Flynn’s tomato and basil?” he asked. Sharon didn’t answer, just kept pushing onions and garlic around the pan with a wooden spoon. Rusty jerked his chin at his mother and shook his head, trying desperately to get Andy to back off. It wasn’t that Andy couldn’t clue in on the very obvious signals – dense as he was - but he refused to believe that he _needed_ to after all this time.

He’d known Sharon for 20 years, long enough to sense when he needed to beat a hasty retreat to keep the wrath of Raydor from raining down upon him, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, they’d moved past her icy veneer. Apparently not – she still held just as much of a grudge in their shared kitchen as she had when she found out that he was the one who’d called in a bomb threat to the Parker Center all those years ago. Damn caller ID anyway. At least she didn’t know _why_ he’d called it in. He hoped, anyway.

“I’ll set the table,” he volunteered, but a tight-lipped shake of the head was enough to keep him in his seat.

“I’ve got it, Andy,” Rusty said with a sympathetic smile. “You just sit there and…relax.” The kid’s knowing look was enough to resign Andy to the fact that relaxing was the last thing he was going to do tonight. And Dr. Liu had been so clear…and so _loud_ …with her instructions.

Once dinner was ready, they settled into their seats. Sharon didn’t say a word when she spooned a generous helping onto his plate. She didn’t make eye contact when he thanked her and complimented her cooking.

She didn’t even acknowledge his presence until he asked Rusty to pass the salt. Before Rusty could pass the shaker to him, Sharon slammed her napkin down on the table and stormed out of the room. Andy looked at Rusty and mouthed _What?_ over the table. Rusty just shook his head and held up his hands, clearly not wanting to get in the middle of the fight Andy didn’t even realize he was having. Some help the kid was.

“You want to clue me in?” he muttered, but Rusty just pushed away from the table and reached for the half-full plates in front of them.

“Nope. You’re on your own here.”

No shit, on his own. The condo was silent once Rusty decamped for his bedroom, the only sound being the slight rattling of the vertical blinds framing the sliding glass door to the balcony gently brushing against each other in the faint September wind.

The balcony was her little haven, where she hid from the pressures of the job and family. And, apparently, from him. He should leave her alone, but they’d come too far at this point for him to just abandon her. He pushed aside the blinds and ducked out onto the balcony.

She stood at the far end, gazing out over the hills. Her shoulders were tense, so tense that rose almost to her ears. Normally, he’d work his thumbs into her shoulder blades until tension gave way into relief, but normally, he wasn’t the cause of this much anxiety. He stood behind her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body, but not quite close enough to pull her into his arms.

She packed a mean punch, his Sharon, and he wasn’t quite stupid enough to put himself into her crosshairs.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked softly.

She didn’t turn her head. Didn’t let loose of the death grip she had on the bars of the balcony. “You want to tell _me_ what’s going on?”

The hitch in her voice tugged at his heart, and even though he knew he might regret it, he wrapped his arms around her stomach. “Nothing’s going on. I’m fine. I’m going to be fine. It was just a minor heart thing.” He rested his chin on her shoulder and stared at the moonlight reflecting in her glasses. For a second, the two of them stood there, drowning in the full moon, finding life and breath in each other.  He laced his fingers through hers, ready to pull her back into their home and into their bed, ready to fall asleep with her head cushioned against his steadily beating heart.

Sharon, of course, had other ideas. “A minor heart thing. A minor myocardial infarction, brought on by high blood pressure. Minor high blood pressure brought on by the fact that you. Weren’t. TAKING. YOUR MEDICATION.” Her small fists beat on his chest with each word. He wanted to remind her that he’d just had a heart attack – a minor, minor heart attack – but he thought that for once, he should shut the hell up and let her yell at him.

“I know,” he whispered.

“You know? You KNOW?” Sharon pushed him out of her way so that she could begin pacing the length of the balcony. “You know what? That your stubborn pigheadedness was going to lead to a heart attack? That your idiotic behavior would leave me, once again, alone in a waiting room with no say whatsoever in whether you lived or died? That you were going to leave me-“ she stopped, caught in a sob, and pressed her fist to her mouth. She sank into one of the lounge chairs that overlooked Griffith Park and the lights of the hills beyond her balcony. “That you were going to leave me alone?” she whispered.

Jesus, he was a grade-A idiot. He lowered himself to his knees and rested his hands on her thighs. “I’m sorry,” he said. When she didn’t look up to meet his eyes, he dug his fingers into the thick fiber of her jeans. “I’m sorry. I stopped taking the meds because my blood pressure was fine. I was fine. I thought it would be ok. I just hated the side effects.”

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes under her glasses. “Irritability and quick to anger,” she muttered.

He squeezed her thighs. “Also, they said something about reduced sex drive. Didn’t want to punish you as well as me.”

God love her, she laughed at his stupid joke, just as she’d laughed at all of his stupid jokes for a year now. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, resting her forehead against his. “So you really think you’re that good in bed?”

He shrugged, then tipped his lips up to meet hers. “I do ok.” He kissed her again, slowly and softly, then pulled her to him so that her head rested against his shoulder. “Sharon, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You and me, that’s the deal.”

“You and me,” she echoed, muffled by her lips pressed against his neck.

He eased his way into the lounge chair, shifting them both until she was curled up in his lap, her hands resting against his heart. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, smiling as she snorted at the prospect of someone offering _her_ a deal. “I’ll take my meds, if you agree to never give me the silent treatment again.”

“What do I get out of that? No deal. You’ll take your meds, and you’ll agree to give me power of attorney for medical decisions, and you’ll say goodbye to salt. And I’ll consider not giving you the silent treatment.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Compromise, Captain. I’ll take my meds. I’ll say goodbye to salt. I’ll even let you have power of attorney, but only if you’ll marry me.”

She jerked her head up so quickly that it clipped him in the chin, causing them both to grunt in surprise and pain. Not the way he’d planned to ask her, that’s for damn sure.

She rubbed the back of her head absently as she stared at him, the moonlight casting shadows on her face. “Marry you?”

It wasn’t how he’d planned to ask. He wasn’t even sure he’d planned to ask at all; he was happy to let her set the pace of their relationship. Still, if a _minor_ myocardial infarction was good for anything, it should cut him a little slack to ask the woman he loved to share her life with him.

“Marry me. You’ll get to sign my DNRs, and look on the bright side…you’ll get my pension when I kick the bucket.”

She laughed, quietly at first, but her laughter swelled up until she was shaking against him, snorting and hiccupping. “You’re an idiot, Andy Flynn,” she choked out.

He pulled her against him and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips. “I am, but I’m your idiot. And you haven’t answered me.”

Her laughter subsided until she was still, breathing deeply against his chest. “Ok. But only for your pension.”

This time, he was the one who laughed, until his chest burned and ached for air. “Good enough for me.” He pulled her closer, rocking her slowly in the moonlight. “Good enough for me.”

Better than good. He floated with her in the moonlight, breathing deeply as they both stared at the endless stars, grateful for whatever fate or providence or happy accident that found them and brought them together.


End file.
